Dead Man's Curve

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Dead Man's Curve Page 7

by Jack Patterson


  “You cold, Son?”

  Jeremy fidgeted in his chair that was set back about two yards from the bank of the Cumberland River. “I’m good.”

  Lee finished baiting his hook and cast his line into the water. Their conversation stalled and turned to awkward silence, interrupted only by the lapping of the water along the riverbank. Several minutes passed. Nothing. Not a bite. Not a word.

  This wasn’t how Lee foresaw his fishing excursion going. He wanted to connect with Jeremy on a deeper level, something that had been missing from their relationship for quite a while. He’d had a few breakthroughs recently, but not the kind of sustained change he hoped for.

  “Son, have I ever told you the best way to catch a big fish?” Lee asked.

  Jeremy nodded. “Uh huh. Maybe a hundred times.”

  Lee continued as if his son had answered no. “You gotta let the line out a little bit before you really set the hook. Let him play within it. Let him think he’s got something and then BOOM! You jerk that rod hard and set that hook. The next thing you know, he’ll be getting shoved into your live well before you chop its head off and scale the thing.”

  “A hundred and one times,” Jeremy muttered.

  “If you’re going to succeed at anything in life, you need to know the secret.”

  “Or how to keep one.”

  Lee nodded and smiled. “Secrets are important. If everyone knew everything, the world would be a different place than it is today. When you keep a secret, you hold the power. You maintain a position of importance—one that everyone else wants but will never get because they don’t know what you know.”

  Jeremy’s tough veneer cracked with a smile. “I think I know what you mean.”

  “I know you do. It’s that kind of power that enables us to—”

  Lee’s phone buzzed. “Hold on a second, Son. I need to take this call.” He set his rod on the ground and meandered toward the forest behind him.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “I just got a call from one of my deputies about something you might be interested in.” It was Sheriff Wilson.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah, my deputy was in Steve’s dinner when that Murphy fella and his wife came in. They were asking all kinds of questions, more stickin’ their noses where they don’t belong.”

  “I heard already. Did he hear what Steve told them?”

  “Steve was a good soldier and told them they should drop it.”

  Lee watched a squirrel clamber up a nearby pine tree. “At least he ain’t stupid. One of my guys told me they were also asking about The Gentleman’s Club. Who the hell told them about that?”

  Wilson took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. It wasn’t Steve because they were asking him what he knew about it.”

  “He better not utter a word.”

  “He didn’t.”

  Lee kicked at a rotten stump. “The last thing we need is some reporter snooping around town asking about that.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Okay, I’m done with them. I’m going to handle it.”

  “Anything else you want me to do?”

  “Just keep tailing them. I doubt they’ll stay in town long after what I’m about to do.”

  “You’re the boss.” Wilson hung up.

  Lee gazed at the patches of blue sky fighting through the fall cloud cover. After a deep sigh, he pulled his phone out and dialed another number.

  “Do it,” Lee said before hanging up.

  He knelt down and picked up a pinecone that had been chewed up by a squirrel, then flung it deeper into the forest. After lingering for a few moments, he ventured back toward the water.

  “Catch anything, Son?” he asked.

  Jeremy reached down and grabbed the rainbow trout out of his cooler.

  “That looks about like a four-pounder. Good job.”

  Jeremy beamed as he put the fish back. He started reeling in his line. “You ready?”

  Lee’s eyebrows shot upward. “What? To go? We just got here?”

  “I know, but I’ve gotta get back. I’ve got a few things going on this afternoon.”

  “Anything you wanna tell me about? What’s her name?”

  The hue in Jeremy’s cheeks reddened. “It’s not like that, Dad.”

  “Well, what’s it like then?” Lee said as he reeled in his line.

  “I don’t know. We’re just kind of talkin’ right now.”

  “Men don’t talk; men take action.”

  Jeremy cocked his head and stared at his father. “I thought you said I was already a man?”

  “You aren’t suddenly a man—you become a man. Keep acting like a man and you’ll become one.”

  “But I thought you said—”

  “Hush. Do you hear that?” Lee gathered his rod and crept back toward the woods. He put his index finger over his lips and pointed toward a thicket where a buck appeared snared in some brambles.

  He dropped his fishing gear. “Help me over here, Son.”

  Jeremy put his rod and cooler down and hustled over next to his father. “What’s going on?”

  “This buck’s leg is caught. Help me get it loose.”

  Jeremy, mouth agape, stared at his father. “Seriously?”

  “Did I stutter? Grab down low with me and pull on the count of three.”

  Lee counted to three and they both yanked on the buck’s leg. It sprang free and the animal darted off into the woods.

  “What’d you do that for? That was a nice buck. We could’ve gotten some nice steaks and some good jerky out of him.”

  Lee chuckled and slapped his son on the back. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

  “That’s not what you said—”

  “There are different rules for different playing fields. In the woods, you don’t take advantage of the weak. Besides, you never know why the weak is weak. Maybe the weak is that way because it’s sick. You can’t take that risk.”

  “And in the real world?”

  “Depends. Sometimes, you need to exercise all the strength you can muster. Other times, you must exercise restraint.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re exercising much restraint when it comes to that reporter and his wife.”

  Lee’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his son. His voice took on an edgy tone. “Survival is different. When people are aiming to put you down, you can’t let them exist in your world. They’re like a disease, threatening to take out everyone else. Do you know what would happen if I let them do whatever they pleased in this town?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “They’d ruin us. Me, you, everyone. The type of person Mr. Murphy is requires a different kind of approach—a severe approach. He’s threatening our very existence here in Millersville. And I won’t let that happen.”

  Lee’s phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket.

  “Talk to me,” he said.

  “It’s done,” a man said. “You’ll be hearing from him soon, I’m sure.”

  CHAPTER 17

  CAL SAWED THROUGH the piece of flat iron steak he’d ordered from The Waterwheel Restaurant and Pub. He struggled to jam his fork into the piece of overdone steak then glanced at Kelly’s plate.

  “It’s hard to go wrong with a chicken salad,” he said before reluctantly putting the meat into his mouth. He chomped on it for several moments, drawing a snicker from Kelly.

  “I thought you ordered it medium rare,” she said still smiling.

  Cal shook his head. “I did, but what other kind of meat would I expect to get in this town? It’s never what you expect and it’s rarely pleasant.”

  “Perhaps that’s a sign you should leave,” said a familiar voice.

  Cal turned around to see Tom Corliss.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of us,” Cal quipped.

  Corliss waved him off and sat down in one of the two empty seats at their table. “Definitely not trying to get rid of you, but wante
d to let you know that you might not have to stay here much longer.”

  “That’s a relief,” Kelly said. “I’m ready to get on to Chicago and get out of this godforsaken place.”

  “I would’ve pegged you for a small-town girl,” Corliss said.

  She huffed. “Been there, done that. I spent most of my energy trying to escape it. Too many people all up in your business all the time.”

  “That’s probably why they don’t appreciate outsiders like us getting involved in their business and they try to run us off,” Corliss said.

  “But that’s nearly impossible. Small towns are magnets for corruption,” Cal said.

  “And that differs from big cities how?” Corliss said.

  “Good point.”

  “Look, we could discuss the most corrupt places on earth all night—and it’d be quite a rousing discussion, but I’ve got a few more details to take care of before tomorrow morning.”

  “What’s happening then?” Kelly asked.

  “Just be at Miller County High around eight-thirty. It’ll be a circus.” Corliss paused. “And thank you, Cal, for dragging me into this. This is a huge win for the bureau, not only catching a murderer but also what else you guys helped me get on Wilfred Lee.”

  “Are you going to arrest him tomorrow, too?” Cal asked.

  “Not yet, but it won’t be long until our case against him is rock solid. That bastard will be rotting away in a cell for the rest of his life.”

  “Glad we could help,” Cal said.

  He stood up and patted Cal on the back. “And don’t worry. I’ll give you all the sensational details no one else will get.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “It’s the least I can do. You two have a nice rest of your dinner and we’ll talk soon.”

  Kelly put down her fork and wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “So, let’s talk about the future.”

  “Spaceships and flying cars kind of future or ours?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Well, I’ve heard that flying cars are definitely—”

  “Oh, Cal, stop it. I want to talk about us and what we’re doing next.”

  A smile crept across his face. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  “I’m serious, Cal. Do you think we’re doing the right thing in moving to Chicago?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She cleared her throat and looked away toward the window before returning her gaze to him. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just concerned about moving so far away from family. I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and my mom moved to Georgia to help take care of Maddie. I’m not sure how she’ll take us up and moving again.”

  “She’s adventurous. She won’t mind. She’d do anything to be with her granddaughter.”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t told you about the latest development.”

  Cal set his fork and knife down, pushing his plate to the side. He leaned forward. “Latest development?”

  “Yeah, she’s met a guy.”

  “There are plenty of guys in Chicago.”

  “Well, she really likes this one,” Kelly countered. “He’s the first one who’s treated her like dad used to treat her before he died. I haven’t seen her so happy in quite a while.”

  Cal’s phone buzzed. “Hold that thought. We need to talk more about this.” He answered his phone. “This is Cal.”

  It was his editor, Jim Gatlin. “Where are you?”

  “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

  “Are you still in Kentucky?”

  Cal shifted in his chair. “All business tonight, are we?”

  “I’m serious, Cal. Are you still in Kentucky on that story?”

  “Yep. We’re not due to leave until tomorrow.”

  “Dang it, Cal. I told you to get outta there because nothing good was going to come of this story—for you, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t seen the wire yet, have you?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got bad news.”

  “Just tell me what it is and stop beating around the bush, Gatlin.”

  Gatlin paused. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but I just got a call from the publisher. He’s making your suspension permanent.”

  “Permanent?”

  “Yeah, Cal, there’s no easy way to say this, but the paper is letting you go.”

  “Seriously? That’s ridiculous. Just because of what I was doing here? I was just following a lead and—”

  “Actually, it has nothing to do with your time in Millersville.”

  “Then why?”

  “TMZ Sports wrote a story about your history of plagiarism. It listed links and highlighted large sections of some of your stories that were lifted from other articles on the Internet.”

  Cal let out a long breath and stood up. “You know I’ve never done anything like that. That’s bogus.” He looked at Kelly, who wore a look of concern on her face. She mouthed “What is it?” to him. He waved her off and sat back down. “Just give me some time and I’m sure I can prove they’re all fabricated. It’s obvious that I’ve made a few enemies around here.”

  “Enemies capable of framing you?”

  “Absolutely. This Wilfred Lee guy has tons of money and has been trying to get rid of me the moment I stepped foot in his little town.”

  “Well, he may have succeeded for good.” He paused for a moment. “I want to believe you, Cal, but I have to be honest when I say it doesn’t look good.”

  “Get somebody in our IT department to look into it. I’m sure they can prove those claims are bogus.”

  “Calm down, Cal. We’ll do our best due diligence, but I’m inclined to agree with the publisher.”

  “But you know me,” he protested. “I’m totally being set up and you know it.”

  “I’ll have someone look into it, but it’d have to be pretty strong evidence to overturn the publisher’s decision. You know what he’s like. He hates to admit when he’s wrong.”

  “He’ll have no choice or else—”

  “Or else what?”

  “I’ll sue him and the paper for wrongful termination.”

  “That will make for a fun work environment.”

  “Not to get my job back but to make him pay. This is America. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  “Blame it on Twitter.”

  “This is ridiculous and you know it.”

  “I wish there was something more I could do for you, Cal, but I thought I at least owed you the courtesy of telling you myself. Good luck.”

  Cal slammed his phone down on the table then motioned for the waiter and asked for the check.

  Kelly reached across the table and grabbed Cal’s hands. “What are they doing to you, honey?”

  “Firing me.”

  “What? Why? What did you do?”

  “My job—and somebody with a lot of money in this town went to great lengths to set me up.”

  “This can’t be happening,” she said, her eyes beginning to blur. “Not now.”

  Cal signed the receipt and stood up. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  She followed him out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. As they climbed into their car, Cal’s phone buzzed again.

  “This is Cal.”

  “Cal, this is Brian Buckman from the Tribune. I was just calling to let you know that we’re canceling your interview tomorrow.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I think you probably know why. Our management decided that despite all the great award-winning writing you’ve done, you’re not the kind of journalist the Tribune wants.”

  “Are you kidding me? Those accusations are lies.”

  “They aren’t just accusations. We investigated them ourselves. Looks pretty legit. Best of luck to you.”

  Cal tossed his phone on the dashboard before burying his head in his hands. “Ahhhh! This is so frustratin
g. How come nobody realizes somebody—somebody named Wilfred Lee—is setting me up?”

  Kelly put her hand on his back and started to cry. “This is all my fault. I just wanted to help out my cousin and talked you into it. We’d never be in this situation if I hadn’t been so foolish and thought we could get justice.”

  Cal pulled back and stared at her. “You listen to me—this is not your fault. Wilfred Lee did this, not you.” He stopped and gazed into her eyes, which were now flowing uncontrollably with tears. “And we’re not leaving until we get justice—I don’t care what anybody thinks about me as a journalist. Get your camera. We’re going to take Lee down.”

  CHAPTER 18

  JUSTIN PALMER PULLED ON a pair of camouflage pants and shirt. He jammed his foot into one of his old Army boots, remaining as quiet as he could so he wouldn’t wake Elizabeth. He knew it’d probably take a freight train rolling a few feet from the house to snap her out of the deep sleep she fell into each night thanks to a cocktail of pain-relieving drugs, but he decided not to test his theory. He finished lacing up his boots and stood up. He stopped to watch her sleep. She looked so peaceful as the faint moonlight beamed through the window and onto her face. Her body rose and fell with her slight rhythmic breathing. To Palmer, she looked as beautiful as ever. But he couldn’t believe she would be gone soon enough and he’d be all alone.

  Palmer crept down the hall and into the kitchen. He stopped and stared at the check lying on the counter next to the agreement Wilfred Lee dropped off a few days ago. Two million dollars.

  Two million dollars? What am I thinking?

  Just as he was about to open the door, he noticed a diary with a hand-scrawled note attached to it. It was from his wife.

  Justin,

  I know you’ve had a lot of questions about what happened that night. I always wanted to tell you but I just didn’t know how. I marked the page where you’ll want to start. It’ll explain everything.

  Yours forever,

  Elizabeth

  He picked up the diary, unsure if he wanted to read it right then. With less than fifteen minutes until the meeting at The Gentleman’s Club was scheduled to begin, he didn’t know if he stopped to peruse a few pages if the meeting would be over by the time he got there. After pausing for a few moments, he opened the book.

 

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